PS 

3507 

E9 

M3 

1914 


IC-NRLF 


35 


KX     TJIVPJS 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 

GIFT  OF 

EDWIN  C.   VOORHIES 


•If  you  have  skill,  apply  it;  the  world^must 
profit  by  it,  and,  therefore,  you" 


Frank  E.  Morrison 
Publisker 
New  York 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


SIXTH  EDITION 
Revised  and  Illustrated 


COPYRIGHT,  1900,  1901,  1903,  1908,  1914,  BY 

FRANK  E.  MORRISON 

Copyright  in  the  British  Empire  and  in  the  Countries 
Signatory  to  the  Berlin  Convention 

All  rights  reserved 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"If  you  have  skill,  apply  it;  the  world 
must  profit  by  it,  and,  therefore, 
you." Frontispiece 

"The  door  opened — and  admitted  Sturte- 

vant." 6 

"He,  after  scanning  the  bill  of  fare  leisure- 
ly, ordered  from  it  carelessly."  .  14 

"I  found  it  pasted  in  an  old  scrapbook  I 

purchased  in  Ann  Street."      ...       22 

"I  found  the  story  curiously  printed."     .       28 

"Much  have  I  wearied  my  brain  anent  the 
question,  how  best  to  describe  this 
recipe  for  success." 34 

"I  spent  my  evenings  at  the  tavern."       .       44 

"I  peered  into  a  window  and  saw  that 

other  being." 52 

"I  was  a  successful  man,  and  ere  long  pos- 
sessed another  shipyard."  ...  60 


"  The  door  opened— and  admitted  Sturtevant. 


THE    MAGIC    STORY 

PART  ONE 


I  WAS  sitting  alone  in  the  cafe, 
and  had  just  reached  for  the 
sugar  preparatory  to  put- 
ting it  into  my  coffee.  Outside,  the 
weather  was  hideous.  Snow  and 
sleet  came  swirling  down,  and  the 
wind  howled  frightfully.  Every 
time  the  outer  door  opened,  a  draft 
of  unwelcome  air  penetrated  the  ut- 
termost corners  of  the  room.  Still, 
I  was  comfortable.  The  snow  and 
sleet  and  wind  conveyed  nothing  to 
me  except  an  abstract  thanksgiving 
that  I  was  where  it  could  not 
affect  me.  While  I  dreamed  and 
sipped  my  coffee,  the  door  opened 
and  closed,  and  admitted — Sturte- 
vant. 


8  The  Magic  Story 

Sturtevant  was  an  undeniable 
failure,  but,  withal,  an  artist  of 
more  than  ordinary  talent.  He 
had,  however,  fallen  into  the  rut 
traveled  by  ne'er-do-wells,  and  was 
out  at  the  elbows  as  well  as  in- 
solvent. 

As  I  raised  my  eyes  to  Sturte- 
vant's,  I  was  conscious  of  mild  sur- 
prise at  the  change  in  his  appear- 
ance. Yet  he  was  not  dressed 
differently.  He  wore  the  same 
threadbare  coat  in  which  he  al- 
ways appeared,  and  the  old  brown 
hat  was  the  same.  And  yet  there 
was  something  new  and  strange  in 
his  appearance.  As  he  swished  his 
hat  around  to  relieve  it  of  the 
burden  of  snow  deposited  by  the 
howling  nor'wester,  there  was 
something  new  in  the  gesticulation. 
I  could  not  remember  when  I  had 
invited  Sturtevant  to  dine  with  me, 
but  involuntarily  I  beckoned  to 
him.  He  nodded,  and  presently 


The  Magic  Story  9 

seated  himself  opposite  to  me.  I 
asked  him  what  he  would  have, 
and  he,  after  scanning  the  bill  of 
fare  carelessly,  ordered  from  it 
leisurely,  and  invited  me  to  join 
him  in  coffee  for  two.  I  watched 
him  in  stupid  wonder,  but,  as  I  had 
invited  the  obligation,  I  was  pre- 
pared to  pay  for  it,  although  I 
knew  I  hadn't  sufficient  cash  to  set- 
tle the  bill.  Meanwhile,  I  noted 
the  brightness  of  his  usual  lack- 
luster eyes,  and  the  healthful, 
hopeful  glow  upon  his  cheek,  with 
increasing  amazement. 

"Have  you  lost  a  rich  uncle?"  I 
asked. 

"No,"  he  replied,  calmly,  "but 
I  have  found  my  mascot." 

"Brindle  bull,  or  terrier?"  I  in- 
quired. 

"Currier,"  said  Sturtevant,  at 
length,  pausing  with  his  coffee  cup 
half  way  to  his  lips,  "I  see  that  I 
have  surprised  you.  It  is  not 


io  The  Magic  Story 

strange,  for  I  am  a  surprise  to  my- 
self. I  am  a  new  man,  a  different 
man, — and  the  alteration  has  taken 
place  in  the  last  few  hours.  You 
have  seen  me  come  into  this  place 
broke'  many  a  time,  when  you  have 
turned  away,  so  that  I  would  think 
you  did  not  see  me.  I  knew  why 
you  did  that.  It  was  not  because 
you  did  not  want  to  pay  for  a  din- 
ner, but  because  you  did  not  have 
the  money  to  do  it.  Is  that  your 
check?  Let  me  have  it.  Thank 
you.  I  haven't  any  money  with  me 
to-night,  but  I, — well,  this  is  my 
treat." 

He  called  the  waiter  to  him, 
and,  with  an  inimitable  flourish, 
signed  his  name  on  the  backs  of 
the  two  checks,  and  waved  him 
away.  After  that  he  was  silent  a 
moment  while  he  looked  into  my 
eyes,  smiling  at  the  astonishment 
which  I  in  vain  strove  to  conceal. 

"Do  you  know  an  artist  who  pos- 


The  Magic  Story  1 1 

sesses  more  talent  than  I?"  he 
asked,  presently.  uNo.  Do  you 
happen  to  know  anything  in  the 
line  of  my  profession  that  I  could 
not  accomplish,  if  I  applied  myself 
to  it?  No.  You  have  been  a  re- 
porter on  the  dailies  for — how 
many? — seven  or  eight  years.  Do 
you  remember  when  I  ever  had  any 
credit  until  to-night?  No.  Was 
I  refused  just  now?  You  have  seen 
for  yourself.  To-morrow  my  new 
career  begins.  Within  a  month  I 
shall  have  a  bank  account.  Why? 
Because  I  have  discovered  the  se- 
cret of  success." 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  when  I  did 
not  reply,  "my  fortune  is  made.  I 
have  been  reading  a  strange  story, 
and,  since  reading  it,  I  feel  that  my 
fortune  is  assured.  It  will  make 
your  fortune,  too.  All  you  have 
to  do  is  to  read  it.  You  have  no 
idea  what  it  will  do  for  you.  Noth- 
ing is  impossible  after  you  know 


12  The  Magic  Story 

that  story.  It  makes  everything 
as  plain  as  A,  B,  C.  The  very  in- 
stant you  grasp  its  true  meaning, 
success  is  certain.  This  morning  I 
was  a  hopeless,  aimless  bit  of  gar- 
bage in  the  metropolitan  ash  can; 
to-night  I  wouldn't  change  places 
with  a  millionaire.  That  sounds 
foolish,  but  it  is  true.  The  mil- 
lionaire has  spent  his  enthusiasm; 
mine  is  all  at  hand." 

"You  amaze  me,"  I  said,  won- 
dering if  he  had  been  drinking  ab- 
sinthe. "Won't  you  tell  me  the 
story?  I  should  like  to  hear  it." 

"Certainly.  I  mean  to  tell  it  to 
the  whole  world.  It  is  really  re- 
markable that  it  should  have  been 
written  and  should  remain  in  print 
so  long,  with  never  a  soul  to  ap- 
preciate it  until  now.  This  morn- 
ing I  was  starving.  I  hadn't  any 
credit,  nor  a  place  to  get  a  meal. 
I  was  seriously  meditating  suicide. 
I  had  gone  to  three  of  the  papers 


The  Magic  Story  13 

for  which  I  had  done  work,  and 
had  been  handed  back  all  that  I 
had  submitted.  I  had  to  choose 
quickly  between  death  by  suicide 
and  death  slowly  by  starvation. 
Then  I  found  the  story  and  read 
it.  You  can  hardly  imagine  the 
transformation.  Why,  my,  dear 
boy,  everything  changed  at  once, — 
and  there  you  are." 

"But  what  is  the  story,  Sturte- 
vant?" 

"Wait;  let  me  finish.  I  took 
those  same  old  drawings  to  other 
editors,  and  every  one  of  them  was 
accepted  at  once." 

"Can  the  story  do  for  others 
what  it  has  done  for  you  ?  For  ex- 
ample, would  it  be  of  assistance  to 
me?"  I  asked. 

"Help  you?  why  not?  Listen 
and  I  will  tell  it  to  you,  although, 
really,  you  should  read  it.  Still,  I 
will  tell  it  as  best  I  can.  It  is  like 
this:  you  see, " 


"  He,  after  scanning  the  bill  oj  fare  leisurely,  ordered 
from  it  carelessly." 


The  Magic  Story  15 

The  waiter  interrupted  us  at 
that  moment.  He  informed  Stur- 
tevant  that  he  was  wanted  at  the 
telephone,  and,  with  a  word  of 
apology,  the  artist  left  the  table. 
Five  minutes  later  I  saw  him  rush 
out  into  the  sleet  and  wind  and  dis- 
appear. Within  the  recollection 
of  the  frequenters  of  that  cafe, 
Sturtevant  had  never  before  been 
called  out  by  telephone.  That,  of 
itself,  was  substantial  proof  of  a 
change  in  his  circumstances. 

One  night,  on  the  street,  I  en- 
countered Avery,  a  former  college 
chum,  then  a  reporter  on  one  of  the 
evening  papers.  It  was  about  a 
month  after  my  memorable  inter- 
view with  Sturtevant,  which,  by 
that  time,  was  almost  forgotten. 

"Hello,  old  chap/'  he  said; 
"how's  the  world  using  you?  Still 
on  space?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  bitterly,  "with 
prospects  of  being  on  the  town, 


1 6  The  Magic  Story 

T 

shortly.  But  you  look  as  if 
things  were  coming  your  way.  Tell 
me  all  about  it." 

"Things  have  been  coming  my 
way,  for  a  fact,  and  it  is  all  re- 
markable, when  all  is  said.  You 
know  Sturtevant,  don't  you?  It's 
all  due  to  him.  I  was  plumb  down 
on  my  luck, — thinking  of  the 
morgue  and  all  that, — looking  for 
you,  in  fact,  with  -the  idea  that  you 
would  lend  me  enough  to  pay  my 
room  rent,  when  I  met  Sturtevant. 
He  told  me  a  story,  and,  really, 
old  man,  it  is  the  most  remarkable 
story  you  ever  heard;  it  made  a 
new  man  of  me.  Within  twenty- 
four  hours  I  was  on  my  feet,  and 
I've  hardly  known  a  care  or  a 
trouble  since." 

Avery's  statement,  uttered  calm- 
ly, and  with  the  air  of  one  who  had 
merely  pronounced  an  axiom,  re- 
called to  my  mind  the  conversation 
with  Sturtevant  in  the  cafe  that 


The  Magic  Story  17 

stormy  night,  nearly  a  month  be- 
fore. 

"It  must  be  a  remarkable  story," 
I  said,  incredulously.  "Sturtevant 
mentioned  it  to  me  once.  I  have 
not  seen  him  since.  Where  is  he 
now?" 

"He  has  been  making  war 
sketches  in  Cuba,  at  two  hundred 
a  week;  he's  just  returned.  It  is 
a  fact  that  everybody  that  has 
heard  that  story  has  done  well 
since.  There  are  Cosgrove  and 
Phillips, — friends  of  mine, — you 
don't  know  them.  One's  a  real  es- 
tate agent;  the  other  a  broker's 
clerk.  Sturtevant  told  them  the 
story,  and  they  have  experienced 
the  same  result  that  I  have;  and 
they  are  not  the  only  ones,  either.'* 

"Do  you  know  the  story?"  I 
asked.  "Will  you  try  its  effect  on 
me?" 

"Certainly;  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  in  the  world.  I  would 


1 8  The  Magic  Story 

like  to  have  it  printed  in  big  black 
type,  and  posted  on  the  elevated 
stations  throughout  New  York.  It 
certainly  would  do  a  lot  of  good, 
and  it's  as  simple  as  A,  B,  C;  like 
living  on  a  farm.  Excuse  me  a 
minute,  will  you?  I  see  Danforth 
over  there.  Back  in  a  minute,  old 
chap." 

He  nodded  and  smiled, — and 
was  gone.  I  saw  him  join  the  man 
whom  he  had  designated  as  Dan- 
forth. My  attention  was  distract- 
ed for  a  moment,  and,  when  I 
looked  again,  both  had  disap- 
peared. 

If  the  truth  be  told,  I  was  hun- 
gry. My  pocket  at  that  moment 
contained  exactly  five  cents;  just 
enough  to  pay  my  fare  up-town, 
but  insufficient  also  to  stand  the  ex- 
pense of  filling  my  stomach.  There 
was  a  "night  owl"  wagon  in  the 
neighborhood,  where  I  had  fre- 
quently "stood  up"  the  purveyor 


The  Magic  Story  19 

of  midnight  dainties,  and  to  him  I 
applied.  He  was  leaving  the  wag- 
on as  I  was  on  the  point  of  enter- 
ing it,  and  I  accosted  him. 

"I'm  broke  again,"  I  said,  with 
extreme  cordiality.  "You'll  have 
to  trust  me  once  more.  Some  ham 
and  eggs,  I  think,  will  do  for  the 
present." 

He  coughed,  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  re-entered  the 
wagon  with  me. 

"Mr.  Currier  is  good  for  any- 
thing he  orders,"  he  said  to  the 
man  in  charge;  "one  of  my  old  cus- 
tomers. This  is  Mr.  Bryan,  Mr. 
Currier.  He  will  take  good  care 
of  you,  and  'stand  for*  you,  just 
the  same  as  I  would.  The  fact  is, 
I  have  sold  out.  I've  just  turned 
over  the  outfit  to  Bryan.  By  the 
way,  isn't  Mr.  Sturtevant  a  friend 
of  yours?" 

I  nodded.  I  couldn't  have 
spoken  if  I  had  tried. 


2O  The  Magic  Story 

"Well,"  continued  the  ex-unight 
owl"  man,  "he  came  here  one  night, 
about  a  month  ago,  and  told  me  the 
most  wonderful  story  I  ever  heard. 
I've  just  bought  a  place  in  Eighth 
Avenue,  where  I  am  going  to  run 
a  regular  restaurant — near  Twen- 
ty-third Street.  Come  and  see  me." 
He  was  out  of  the  wagon,  and  the 
sliding  door  had  been  banged  shut 
before  I  could  stop  him;  so  I  ate 
my  ham  and  eggs  in  silence,  and  re- 
solved that  I  would  hear  that  story 
before  I  slept.  In  fact,  I  began  to 
regard  it  with  superstition.  If  it 
had  made  so  many  fortunes,  surely 
it  should  be  capable  of  making 
mine. 

The  certainty  that  the  wonder- 
ful story — I  began  to  regard  it  as 
magic, — was  in  the  air,  possessed 
me.  As  I  started  to  walk  home- 
ward, fingering  the  solitary  nickel 
in  my  pocket  and  contemplating  the 
certainty  of  riding  down  town  in 


The  Magic  Story  21 

the  morning,  I  experienced  the  sen- 
sation of  something  stealthily  pur- 
suing me,  as  if  Fate  were  treading 
along  behind  me,  yet  never  over- 
taking, and  I  was  conscious  that  I 
was  possessed  with  or  by  the  story. 
When  I  reached  Union  Square,  I 
examined  my  address  book  for  the 
home  of  Sturtevant.  It  was  not 
recorded  there.  Then  I  remem- 
bered the  cafe  in  University  place, 
and,  although  the  hour  was  late,  it 
occurred  to  me  that  he  might  be 
there. 

He  was !  In  a  far  corner  of  the 
room,  surrounded  by  a  group  of 
acquaintances,  I  saw  him.  He  dis- 
covered me  at  the  same  instant,  and 
motioned  to  me  to  join  them  at  the 
table.  There  was  no  chance  for 
the  story,  however.  There  were 
half  a  dozen  around  the  table,  and 
I  was  the  farthest  removed  from 
Sturtevant.  But  I  kept  my  eyes 
upon  him,  and  bided  my  time,  de- 


"I  found  it  pasted  in  an  old  scrapbook  I  purchased 
in  Ann  Street" 


The  Magic  Story  23 

termined  that,  when  he  rose  to  de- 
part, I  would  go  with  him.  A  si- 
lence, suggestive  of  respectful  awe, 
had  fallen  upon  the  party  when  I 
took  my  seat.  Every  one  seemed 
to  be  thinking,  and  the  attention  of 
all  was  fixed  upon  Sturtevant.  The 
cause  was  apparent.  He  had  been 
telling  the  story.  I  had  entered 
the  cafe  just  too  late  to  hear  it. 
On  my  right,  when  I  took  my  seat, 
was  a  doctor;  on  my  left  a  lawyer. 
Facing  me  on  the  other  side  was  a 
novelist  with  whom  I  had  some  ac- 
quaintance. The  others  were  art- 
ists and  newspaper  men. 

"It's  too  bad,  Mr.  Currier,"  re- 
marked the  doctor;  "you  should 
have  come  a  little  sooner.  Sturte- 
vant has  been  telling  us  a  story;  it 
is  quite  wonderful,  really.  I  say, 
Sturtevant,  won't  you  tell  that  story 
again,  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Cur- 
rier?" 

"Why,  yes.    I  believe  that  Cur- 


24  The  Magic  Story 

rier  has,  somehow,  failed  to  hear 
the  magic  story,  although,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  I  think  he  was  the  first 
one  to  whom  I  mentioned  it  at  all. 
It  was  here,  in  this  cafe,  too, — at 
this  very  table.  Do  you  remember 
what  a  wild  night  that  was,  Cur- 
rier? Wasn't  I  called  to  the  tele- 
phone, or  something  like  that?  To 
be  sure!  I  remember,  now;  inter- 
rupted just  at  the  point  when  I  was 
beginning  the  story.  After  that,  I 
told  it  to  three  or  four  fellows,  and 
it  'braced  them  up,7  as  it  had  me. 
It  seems  incredible  that  a  mere 
story  can  have  such  a  tonic  effect 
upon  the  success  of  so  many  per- 
sons who  are  engaged  in  such  wide- 
ly different  occupations,  but  that  is 
what  it  has  done.  It  is  a  kind  of 
neverfailing  remedy,  like  a  cough 
mixture  that  is  warranted  to  cure 
everything,  from  a  cold  in  the  head 
to  galloping  consumption.  There 
was  Parsons,  for  example.  He  is 


The  Magic  Story  25 

a  broker,  you  know,  and  had  been 
on  the  wrong  side  of  the  market 
for  a  month.  He  had  utterly  lost 
his  grip,  and  was  on  the  verge  of 
failure.  I  happened  to  meet  him 
at  the  time  he  was  feeling  the  blu- 
est, and,  before  we  parted,  some- 
thing brought  me  around  to  the 
subject  of  the  story,  and  I  related 
it  to  him.  It  had  the  same  effect 
upon  him  that  it  had  on  me,  and 
has  had  upon  everybody  who  has 
heard  it,  as  far  as  I  know.  I  think 
you  will  all  agree  with  me,  that  it  is 
not  the  story  itself  that  performs 
the  surgical  operation  on  the  minds 
of  those  who  are  familiar  with  it; 
it  is  the  way  it  is  told, — in  print,  I 
mean.  The  author  has,  somehow, 
produced  a  psychological  effect 
which  is  indescribable.  The  read- 
er is  hypnotized.  He  receives  a 
mental  and  moral  tonic.  Perhaps, 
doctor,  you  can  give  some  scientific 
explanation  of  the  influence  exerted 


26  The  Magic  Story 

by  the  story.  It  is  a  sort  of  elixir 
manufactured  out  of  words,  eh?" 

From  that  the  company  entered 
upon  a  general  discussion  of  the- 
ories. Now  and  then  slight  refer- 
ences were  made  to  the  story  itself, 
and  they  were  just  sufficient  to  tan- 
talize me, — the  only  one  present 
who  had  not  heard  it. 

At  length,  I  left  my  chair,  and, 
passing  around  the  table,  seized 
Sturtevant  by  one  arm,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  drawing  him  away  from 
the  party. 

"If  you  have  any  consideration 
for  an  old  friend  who  is  rapidly  be- 
ing driven  mad  by  the  existence  of 
that  confounded  story,  which  Fate 
seems  determined  that  I  shall  never 
hear,  you  will  relate  it  to  me  now," 
I  said,  savagely. 

Sturtevant  stared  at  me  in  mild 
surprise. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "The  others 
will  excuse  me  for  a  few  moments, 


The  Magic  Story  27 

I  think.  Sit  down  here,  and  you 
shall  have  it.  I  found  it  pasted  in 
an  old  scrapbook  I  purchased  in 
Ann  Street,  for  three  cents;  and 
there  isn't  a  thing  about  it  by  which 
one  can  get  any  idea  in  what  pub- 
lication it  originally  appeared,  or 
who  wrote  it.  When  I  discovered 
it,  I  began  casually  to  read  it,  and 
in  a  moment  I  was  interested.  Be- 
fore I  left  it,  I  had  read  it  through 
many  times,  so  that  I  could  repeat 
it  almost  word  for  word.  It  af- 
fected me  strangely, — as  if  I  had 
come  in  contact  with  some  strong 
personality.  There  seems  to  be  in 
the  story  a  personal  element  that 
applies  to  every  one  who  reads  it. 
Well,  after  I  had  read  it  several 
times,  I  began  to  think  it  over.  I 
couldn't  stay  in  the  house,  so  I 
seized  my  coat  and  hat  and  went 
out.  I  must  have  walked  several 
miles,  buoyantly,  without  realizing 
that  I  was  the  same  man  who,  only 


- 


"I  found  the  story  curiously  printed** 


The  Magic  Story  29 

a  short  time  before,  had  been  in 
the  depths  of  despondency.  That 
was  the  day  I  met  you  here, — you 
remember." 

We  were  interrupted  at  that  in- 
stant by  a  uniformed  messenger, 
who  handed  Sturtevant  a  telegram. 
It  was  from  his  chief,  and  demand- 
ed his  instant  attendance  at  the  of- 
fice. The  messenger  had  already 
been  delayed  an  hour,  and  there  was 
no  help  for  it ;  he  must  go  at  once. 

"Too  bad!"  said  Sturtevant,  ris- 
ing and  extending  his  hand.  "Tell 
you  what  I'll  do,  old  chap.  I'm  not 
likely  to  be  gone  any  more  than  an 
hour  or  two.  You  take  my  key  and 
wait  for  me  in  my  room.  In  the 
escritoire  near  the  window  you  will 
find  an  old  scrapbook,  bound  in 
rawhide.  It  was  manufactured,  I 
have  no  doubt,  by  the  author  of 
the  magic  story.  Wait  for  me  in 
my  room  until  I  return." 

With  that  he  went  out,  and  I 


30  The  Magic  Story 

lost  no  time  in  taking  advantage  of 
the  permission  he  had  given  me. 

I  found  the  book  without  diffi- 
culty. It  was  a  quaint,  home-made 
affair,  covered,  as  Sturtevant  had 
said,  with  rawhide,  and  bound  with 
leather  thongs.  The  pages  formed 
an  odd  combination  of  yellow 
paper,  vellum  and  home-made 
parchment.  I  found  the  story, 
curiously  printed  on  the  last-named 
material.  It  was  quaint  and 
strange.  Evidently,  the  printer  had 
"set"  it  under  the  supervision  of 
the  writer.  The  phraseology  was 
an  unusual  combination  of  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  century  man- 
nerisms, and  the  interpolation  of 
italics  and  capitals  could  have  orig- 
inated in  no  other  brain  than  that 
of  its  author. 


Nothing  worth  while  is  attain- 
able without  effort.  By  the  same 
token,  a  thoughtful  reading  of 
"The  Magic  Story"  and  a  correct 
interpretation  of  its  "lessons"  are 
essential  to  a  full  appreciation  of 
its  inspirational  value. 


IS-YOURS-s- YOU-- HAVE 


VERITAS  PR/EVALEHH 


e 


"Much  have  I  wearied  my  brain  anent  the  question, 
how  best  to  describe  this  recipe  for  success." 


THE    MAGIC    STORY 

PART  TWO 

IN  THE  OLD  SCRAP  BOOK 


INASMUCH  as  I  have  evolved 
from  my  experience  the  one 
great  secret  of  success  for  all 
worldly  undertakings,  I  deem  it 
wise,  now  that  the  number  of  my 
days  is  nearly  counted,  to  give  to 
the  generations  that  are  to  follow 
me  the  benefit  of  whatsoever 
knowledge  I  possess.  I  do  not 
apologize  for  the  manner  of  my 
expression,  nor  for  lack  of  literary 
merit,  the  latter  being,  I  wot,  its 
own  apology.  Tools  much  heavier 
than  the  pen  have  been  my  portion, 
and,  moreover,  the  weight  of  years 
has  somewhat  palsied  hand  and 


36  The  Magic  Story 

brain;  nevertheless,  the  fact  I  can 
tell,  and  that  I  deem  the  meat  with- 
in the  nut.  What  mattereth  it,  in 
what  manner  the  shell  be  broken, 
so  that  the  meat  be  obtained  and 
rendered  useful?  I  doubt  not  that 
I  shall  use,  in  the  telling,  expres- 
sions that  have  clung  to  my  mem- 
ory since  childhood;  for,  when  men 
attain  the  number  of  my  years,  hap- 
penings of  youth  are  like  to  be 
clearer  to  their  perceptions  than 
are  events  of  recent  date ;  nor  doth 
it  matter  much  how  a  thought  is 
expressed,  if  it  be  wholesome  and 
helpful,  and  findeth  the  understand- 
ing. 

Much  have  I  wearied  my  brain 
anent  the  question,  how  best  to  de- 
scribe this  recipe  for  success  that  I 
have  discovered,  and  it  seemeth  ad- 
visable to  give  it  as  it  came  to  me; 
that  is,  if  I  relate  somewhat  of  the 
story  of  my  life,  the  directions  for 
agglomerating  the  substances,  and 


The  Magic  Story  37 

supplying  the  seasoning  for  the  ac- 
complishment of  the  dish,  will 
plainly  be  perceived.  Happen  they 
may;  and  that  men  may  be  born 
generations  after  I  am  dust,  who 
will  live  to  bless  me  for  the  words 
I  write. 

My  father,  then,  was  a  seafar- 
ing man  who,  early  in  life,  forsook 
his  vocation,  and  settled  on  a  plan- 
tation in  the  colony  of  Virginia, 
where,  some  years  thereafter,  I 
was  born,  which  event  took  place  in 
the  year  1642;  and  that  was  over 
a  hundred  years  ago.  Better  for 
my  father  had  it  been  had  he  heark- 
ened to  the  wise  advice  of  my 
mother,  that  he  remain  in  the  call- 
ing of  his  education;  but  he  would 
not  have  it  so,  and  the  good  ves- 
sel he  captained  was  bartered  for 
the  land  I  spoke  of.  Here  begin- 
neth  the  first  lesson  to  be  ac- 
quired:— 

Man  should  not  be  blinded  to 


38  The  Magic  Story 

whatsoever  merit  exists  in  the  op- 
portunity which  he  hath  in  hand, 
remembering  that  a  thousand 
promises  for  the  future  should 
weigh  as  naught  against  the  pos- 
session of  a  single  piece  of  silver. 

When  I  had  achieved  ten  years, 
my  mother's  soul  took  flight,  and 
two  years  thereafter  my  worthy 
father  followed  her.  I,  being  their 
only  begotten,  was  left  alone ;  how- 
beit,  there  were  friends  who,  for  a 
time,  cared  for  me;  that  is  to  say, 
they  offered  me  a  home  beneath 
their  roof, — a  thing  which  I  took 
advantage  of  for  the  space  of  five 
months.  From  my  father's  estate 
there  came  to  me  naught;  but,  in 
the  wisdom  that  came  with  increas- 
ing years,  I  convinced  myself  that 
his  friend,  under  whose  roof  I  lin- 
gered for  some  time,  had  defraud- 
ed him,  and  therefore  me. 

Of  the  time  from  the  age  of 
twelve  and  a  half  until  I  was  three 


The  Magic  Story  39 

^•••••^••••••^••••••••••••••••••••••••^•^ •** 

and  twenty,  I  will  make  no  recital 
here,  since  that  time  hath  naught 
to  do  with  this  tale ;  but  some  time 
after,  having  in  my  possession  the 
sum  of  sixteen  guineas,  ten,  which 
I  had  saved  from  the  fruits  of  my 
labor,  I  took  ship  to  Boston  town, 
where  I  began  work  first  as  a  coop- 
er, and  thereafter  as  a  ship's  car- 
penter, although  always  after  the 
craft  was  docked;  for  the  sea  was 
not  amongst  my  desires. 

Fortune  will  sometimes  smile 
upon  an  intended  victim  because  of 
pure  perversity  of  temper.  Such 
was  one  of  my  experiences.  I  pros- 
pered, v  and,  at  seven  and  twenty, 
owned  the  yard  wherein,  less  than 
four  years  earlier,  I  had  worked 
for  hire.  Fortune,  howbeit,  is  a 
jade  who  must  be  coerced;  she  will 
not  be  coddled.  Here  beginneth 
the  second  lesson  to  be  acquired: 

Fortune  is  ever  elusive,  and  can 
only  be  retained  by  force.  Deal 


40  The  Magic  Story 

with  her  tenderly  and  she  will  for- 
sake you  for  a  stronger  man.  \In 
that,  methinks,  she  is  not  unlike 
other  women  of  my  knowledge.] 

About  this  time,  Disaster  (which 
is  one  of  the  heralds  of  broken  spir- 
its and  lost  resolve),  paid  me  a 
visit.  Fire  ravaged  my  yards,  leav- 
ing nothing  in  its  blackened  paths 
but  debts,  which  I  had  not  the  coin 
wherewith  to  defray.  I  labored 
with  my  acquaintances,  seeking  as- 
sistance for  a  new  start,  but  the 
fire  that  had  burned  my  compe- 
tence seemed  also  to  have  con- 
sumed their  sympathies.  So  it  hap- 
pened, within  a  short  time,  that  not 
only  had  I  lost  all,  but  I  was  hope- 
lessly indebted  to  others;  and  for 
that  they  cast  me  into  prison.  It  is 
possible  that  I  might  have  rallied 
from  my  losses  but  for  this  last  in- 
dignity, which  broke  down  my  spir- 
its so  that  I  became  utterly  des- 
pondent. Upward  of  a  year  was 


The  Magic  Story  41 

I  detained  within  the  gaol;  and, 
when  I  did  come  forth,  it  was  not 
the  same  hopeful,  happy  man,  con- 
tent with  his  lot,  and  with  confi- 
dence in  the  world  and  its  people, 
who  had  entered  there. 

Life  has  many  pathways,  and  of 
them  by  far  the  greater  number 
lead  downward.  Some  are  pre- 
cipitous, others  are  less  abrupt;  but 
ultimately,  no  matter  at  what  incli- 
nation the  angle  may  be  fixed,  they 
arrive  at  the  same  destination, — 
failure.  And  here  beginneth  the 
third  lesson: 

Failure  exists  only  in  the  grave. 
Man,  being  alive,  hath  not  yet 
failed;  always  he  may  turn  about 
and  ascend  by  the  same  path  he  de- 
scended by;  and  there  may  be  one 
that  is  less  abrupt  (albeit  longer  of 
achievement} ,  and  more  adaptable 
to  his  condition. 

When  I  came  forth  from  prison, 
I  was  penniless.  In  all  the  world 


42  The  Magic  Story 

I  possessed  naught  beyond  the  poor 
garments  which  covered  me,  and  a 
walking  stick  which  the  turnkey 
had  permitted  me  to  retain,  since  it 
was  worthless.  Being  a  skilled 
workman,  howbeit,  I  speedily 
found  employment  at  good  wages ; 
but,  having  eaten  of  the  fruit  of 
worldly  advantage,  dissatisfaction 
possessed  me.  I  became  morose 
and  sullen;  whereat,  to  cheer  my 
spirits,  and  for  the  sake  of  forget- 
ting the  losses  I  had  sustained,  I 
passed  my  evenings  at  the  tavern. 
Not  that  I  drank  overmuch  of 
liquor,  except  on  occasion  (for  I 
have  ever  been  somewhat  abstemi- 
ous), but  that  I  could  laugh,  and 
sing,  and  parry  wit  and  badinage 
with  my  ne'er-do-well  companions ; 
and  here  might  be  included  the 
fourth  lesson : 

Seek  comrades  among  the  indus- 
trious, for  those  who  are  idle  will 
sap  your  energies  from  you. 


The  Magic  Story  43 

It  was  my  pleasure  at  that  time 
to  relate,  upon  slight  provocation, 
the  tale  of  my  disasters,  and  to  rail 
against  the  men  whom  I  deemed  to 
have  wronged  me,  because  they  had 
seen  fit  not  to  come  to  my  aid. 
Moreover,  I  found  childish  de- 
light in  filching  from  my  employer, 
each  day,  a  few  moments  of  the 
time  for  which  he  paid  me.  Such 
a  thing  is  less  honest  than  down- 
right theft. 

This  habit  continued  and  grew 
upon  me  until  the  day  dawned 
which  found  me  not  only  without 
employment,  but  also  without 
character,  which  meant  that  I  could 
not  hope  to  find  work  with  any 
other  employer  in  Boston  town. 

It  was  then  that  I  regarded  my- 
self a  failure.  I  can  liken  my  con- 
dition at  that  time  for  naught  more 
similar  than  that  of  a  man  who, 
descending  the  steep  side  of  a 
mountain,  loses  his  foothold.  The 


/  spent  my  evenings  at  the  tavern*' 


The  Magic  Story  45 

farther  he  slides,  the  faster  he 
goes.  I  have  also  heard  this  con- 
dition described  by  the  word  Ish- 
maelite,  which  I  understand  to  be 
a  man  whose  hand  is  against  every- 
body, and  who  thinks  that  the 
hands  of  every  other  man  are 
against  him;  and  here  beginneth 
the  fifth  lesson : 

The  Ishmaelite  and  the  leper  are 
the  same,  since  both  are  abomina- 
tions in  the  sight  of  man, — albeit 
they  differ  much,  in  that  the  former 
may  be  restored  to  perfect  health. 
The  former  is  entirely  the  result  of 
imagination;  the  latter  has  poison 
in  his  blood. 

I  will  not  discourse  at  length 
upon  the  gradual  degeneration  of 
my  energies.  It  is  not  meet  ever 
to  dwell  much  upon  misfortunes 
(which  saying  is  also  worthy  of  re- 
membrance) .  It  is  enough  if  I  add 
that  the  day  came  when  I  possessed 
naught  wherewith  to  purchase  food 


46  The  Magic  Story 

and  raiment,  and  I  found  myself 
like  unto  a  pauper,  save  at  infre- 
quent times  when  I  could  earn  a 
few  pence,  or,  mayhap,  a  shilling. 
Steady  employment  I  could  not  se- 
cure, so  I  became  emaciated  in 
body,  and  naught  but  a  skeleton  in 
spirit. 

My  condition,  then,  was  deplor- 
able; not  so  much  for  the  body,  be 
it  said,  as  for  the  mental  part  of 
me,  which  was  sick  unto  death.  In 
my  imagination  I  deemed  myself 
ostracised  by  the  whole  world,  for 
I  had  sunk  very  low  indeed;  and 
here  beginneth  the  sixth  and  final 
lesson  to  be  acquired  (which  can- 
not be  told  in  one  sentence,  nor  in 
one  paragraph,  but  must  needs  be 
adapted  from  the  remainder  of  this 
tale). 

Well  do  I  remember  my  awak- 
ening, for  it  came  in  the  night, 
when,  in  truth,  I  did  awake  from 
sleep.  My  bed  was  a  pile  of  shav- 


The  Magic  Story          47 

ings  in  the  rear  of  the  cooper  shop 
where  once  I  had  worked  for  hire; 
my  roof  was  the  pyramid  of  casks, 
underneath  which  I  had  established 
myself.  The  night  was  cold,  and  I 
was  chilled,  albeit,  paradoxically, 
I  had  been  dreaming  of  light  and 
warmth  and  of  the  repletion  of 
good  things.  You  will  say,  when  I 
relate  the  effect  the  vision  had  on 
me,  that  my  mind  was  affected.  So 
be  it,  for  it  is  the  hope  that  the 
minds  of  others  might  be  likewise 
influenced  which  disposes  me  to  un- 
dertake the  labor  of  this  writing. 
It  was  the  dream  which  converted 
me  to  the  belief — nay,  to  the 
knowledge, — that  I  was  possessed 
of  two  identities;  and  it  was  my 
own  better  self  that  afforded  me 
the  assistance  for  which  I  had 
pleaded  in  vain  from  my  acquaint- 
ances. I  have  heard  this  condition 
described  by  the  word  "double." 
Nevertheless,  that  word  does  riot 


48  The  Magic  Story 

comprehend  my  meaning.  A  double 
can  be  naught  more  than  a  double, 
neither  half  being  possessed  of  in- 
dividuality. But  I  will  not  philoso- 
phize, since  philosophy  is  naught 
but  a  suit  of  garments  for  the  deco- 
ration of  a  dummy  figure. 

Moreover,  it  was  not  the  dream 
itself  which  affected  me ;  it  was  the 
impression  made  by  it,  and  the  in- 
fluence that  it  exerted  over  me, 
which  accomplished  my  enfran- 
chisement. In  a  word,  then,  I  en- 
couraged my  other  identity.  After 
toiling  through  a  tempest  of  snow 
and  wind,  I  peered  into  a  window 
and  saw  that  other  being.  He  was 
rosy  with  health;  before  him,  on 
the  hearth,  blazed  a  fire  of  logs; 
there  was  conscious  power  and 
force  in  his  demeanor;  he  was  phys- 
ically and  mentally  muscular.  I 
rapped  timidly  upon  the  door,  and 
he  bade  me  enter.  There  was  a 
not  unkindly  smile  of  derision  in 


The  Magic  Story  49 

his  eyes  as  he  motioned  me  to  a 
chair  by  the  fire ;  but  he  uttered  no 
word  of  welcome;  and,  when  I  had 
warmed  myself,  I  went  forth  again 
into  the  tempest,  burdened  with  the 
shame  which  the  contrast  between 
us  had  forced  upon  me.  It  was 
then  that  I  awoke;  and  here  com- 
eth  the  strange  part  of  my  tale,  for, 
when  I  did  awake,  I  was  not  alone. 
There  was  a  Presence  with  me ;  in- 
tangible to  others,  I  discovered 
later,  but  real  to  me. 

The  Presence  was  in  my  likeness, 
yet  was  it  strikingly  unlike.  The 
brow,  not  more  lofty  than  my  own, 
yet  seemed  more  round  and  full; 
the  eyes,  clear,  direct,  and  filled 
with  purpose,  glowed  with  enthu- 
siasm and  resolution;  the  lips,  chin, 
— ay,  the  whole  contour  of  face 
and  figure  was  dominant  and  de- 
termined. 

He  was  calm,  steadfast,  and  self- 
reliant;  I  was  cowering,  filled  with 


50  The  Magic  Story 

nervous  trembling,  and  fearsome 
of  intangible  shadows.  When  the 
Presence  turned  away,  I  followed, 
and  throughout  the  day  I  never  lost 
sight  of  it,  save  when  it  disap- 
peared for  a  time  beyond  some 
doorway  where  I  dared  not  enter; 
at  such  places,  I  awaited  its  return 
with  trepidation  and  awe,  for  I 
could  not  help  wondering  at  the 
temerity  of  the  Presence  (so  like 
myself,  and  yet  so  unlike),  in  dar- 
ing to  enter  where  my  own  feet 
feared  to  tread. 

It  seemed  also  as  if  purposely  I 
was  led  to  the  place  and  to  the  men 
where  and  before  whom  I  most 
dreaded  to  appear;  to  offices  where 
once  I  had  transacted  business;  to 
men  with  whom  I  had  financial 
dealings.  Throughout  the  day  I 
pursued  the  Presence,  and  at  even- 
ing saw  it  disappear  beyond  the 
portals  of  a  hostelry  famous  for  its 
cheer  and  good  living.  I  sought 


The  Magic  Story  51 


the  pyramid  of  casks  and  shav- 
ings. 

Not  again  in  my  dreams  that 
night  did  I  encounter  the  Better 
Self  ( for  that  is  what  I  have  named 
it),  albeit,  when,  perchance,  I 
awakened  from  slumber,  it  was 
near  to  me,  ever  wearing  that 
calm  smile  of  kindly  derision 
which  could  not"  be  mistaken  for 
pity,  nor  for  condolence  in  any 
form.  The  contempt  of  it  stung 
me  sorely. 

The  second  day  was  not  unlike 
the  first,  being  a  repetition  of  its 
forerunner,  and  I  was  again 
doomed  to  wait  outside  during  the 
visits  which  the  Presence  paid  to 
places  where  I  fain  would  have 
gone  had  I  possessed  the  requisite 
courage.  It  is  fear  which  deport- 
eth  a  man's  soul  from  his  body  and 
rendereth  it  a  thing  to  be  despised. 
Many  a  time  I  essayed  to  address 
it,  but  enunciation  rattled  in  my 


'/  peered  into  a  window  and  saw  that  other  being. 


The  Magic  Story  53 

throat,  unintelligible;  and  the  day 
closed  like  its  predecessor. 

This  happened  many  days,  one 
following  another,  until  I  ceased  to 
count  them;  albeit,  I  discovered 
that  constant  association  with  the 
Presence  was  producing  an  effect 
upon  me;  and  one  night,  when  I 
awoke  among  the  casks  and  dis- 
cerned that  he  was  present,  I  made 
bold  to  speak,  albeit  with  marked 
timidity. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  ventured  to 
ask;  and  I  was  startled  into  an  up- 
right posture  by  the  sound  of  my 
own  voice;  and  the  question  seemed 
to  give  pleasure  to  my  companion, 
so  that  I  fancied  there  was  less  of 
derision  in  his  smile  when  he  re- 
sponded. 

"I  am  that  I  am,"  was  the  reply. 
"I  am  he  who  you  have  been;  I  am 
he  who  you  may  be  again;  where- 
fore do  you  hesitate  ?  I  am  he  who 
you  were,  and  whom  you  have  cast 


54  The  Magic  Story 

out  for  other  company.  I  am  the 
man  made  in  the  image  of  God, 
who  once  possessed  your  body. 
Once  we  dwelt  within  it  together, 
not  in  harmony,  for  that  can  never 
be,  nor  yet  in  unity,  for  that  is  im- 
possible, but  as  tenants  in  common 
who  rarely  fought  for  full  posses- 
sion. Then  you  were  a  puny  thing, 
but  you  became  selfish  and  exacting 
until  I  could  no  longer  abide  with 
you,  wherefore  I  stepped  out. 
There  is  a  plus-entity  and  a  minus- 
entity  in  every  human  body  that  is 
born  into  the  world.  Whichever 
one  of  these  is  favored  by  the  flesh 
becomes  dominant;  then  is  the 
other  inclined  to  abandon  its  habi- 
tation, temporarily  or  for  all  time. 
I  am  the  plus-entity  of  yourself; 
you  are  the  minus-entity.  I  own 
all  things;  you  possess  naught. 
That  body  which  we  both  in- 
habited is  mine,  but  it  is  unclean, 
and  I  will  not  dwell  within  it. 


Cleanse  it,  and  I  will  take  posses- 
sion,1' 

"Why  do  you  pursue  me?"  I 

:-.,  \:      M^cd  the  Presence. 

"You  have  pursued  me,  not  I 
you*    You  can  exist  without  me  for 

.1  time,  but  xour  p.ith  le.uls  down- 
x\  .11  d.  .ind  the  end  is  de.ith.  No\\ 
th.it  xou  .ippro.ich  the  eiul,  xou  de- 
bate if  it  be  not  politic  that  you 

should  ,  L  ..-.--    \  01:1    house   .ind  in- 

vite  me  to  enter.    Step  aside,  then, 

from     the     br.iin     ;ind     the     xxill; 

vK   use    them   of  your  presence; 

only  on  th.it  condition  xxill  1  ex  er 
occupy  them  .i^.nn." 

"  The  br.iin  h.itli  lost  its  po\\cr," 

I  faltered.    "The  will  is  a  weak 

J,  noxx  :  c.in  \ou  repair  them?n 

"Listen!"  said  the  Presence,  and 

he  toxv  ered  o>  er  me  xx  lule    1   co\x 
ered  .ibjecth   .it  his  teet.     "  I'o  the 
plus-entity  ot'  .1  m.m,  .ill  things  .ire 
The    worUl    belongs    tv> 

» — is   his    estate,      ilv 


56  The  Magic  Story 

naught,  dreads  naught,  stops  at 
naught;  he  asks  no  privileges,  but 
demands  them;  he  dominates,  and 
cannot  cringe;  his  requests  are  or- 
ders; opposition  flees  at  his  ap- 
proach; he  levels  mountains,  fills  in 
vales,  and  travels  on  an  even  plane 
where  stumbling  is  unknown." 

Thereafter,  I  slept  again,  and, 
when  I  awoke,  I  seemed  to  be  in  a 
different  world.  The  sun  was  shin- 
ing and  I  was  conscious  that  birds 
twittered  above  my  head.  My 
body,  yesterday  trembling  and  un- 
certain, had  become  vigorous  and 
filled  with  energy.  I  gazed  upon 
the  pyramid  of  casks  in  amazement 
that  I  had  so  long  made  use  of  it 
for  an  abiding  place,  and  I  was 
wonderingly  conscious  that  I  had 
passed  my  last  night  beneath  its 
shelter. 

The  events  of  the  night  recurred 
to  me,  and  I  looked  about  me  for 
the  Presence.  It  was  not  visible, 


The  Magic  Story  57 

but  anon  I  discovered,  cowering  in 
a  far  corner  of  my  resting  place,  a 
puny,  abject,  shuddering  figure,  dis- 
torted of  visage,  deformed  of 
shape,  disheveled  and  unkempt  of 
appearance.  It  tottered  as  it 
walked,  for  it  approached  me  pite- 
ously;  but  I  laughed  aloud,  merci- 
lessly. Perchance  I  knew  then  that 
it  was  the  minus-entity,  and  that  the 
plus-entity  was  within  me;  albeit  I 
did  not  then  realize  it.  Moreover, 
I  was  in  haste  to  get  away;  I  had 
no  time  for  philosophy.  There  was 
much  for  me  to  do, — much; 
strange  it  was  that  I  had  not 
thought  of  that  yesterday.  But 
yesterday  was  gone, — to-day  was 
with  me, — it  had  just  begun. 

As  had  once  been  my  daily  habit, 
I  turned  my  steps  in  the  direction 
of  the  tavern  where  formerly  I  had 
partaken  of  my  meals.  I  nodded 
cheerily  as  I  entered,  and  smiled  in 
recognition  of  returned  salutations. 


58  The  Magic  Story 

Men  who  had  ignored  me  for 
months  bowed  graciously  when  I 
passed  them  on  the  thoroughfare. 
I  went  to  the  washroom,  and  from 
there  to  the  breakfast  table ;  after- 
wards, when  I  passed  the  taproom, 
I  paused  a  moment  and  said  to  the 
landlord: 

"I  will  occupy  the  same  room 
that  I  formerly  used,  if,  perchance, 
you  have  it  at  disposal.  If  not,  an- 
other will  do  as  well,  until  I  can  ob- 
tain it." 

Then  I  went  out  and  hurried 
with  all  haste  to  the  cooperage. 
There  was  a  huge  wain  in  the  yard, 
and  men  were  loading  it  with  casks 
for  shipment.  I  asked  no  ques- 
tions, but,  seizing  barrels,  began 
hurling  them  to  the  men  who 
worked  atop  of  the  load.  When 
this  was  finished,  I  entered  the 
shop.  There  was  a  vacant  bench; 
I  recognized  its  disuse  by  the  lit- 
ter on  its  top.  It  was  the  same  at 


The  Magic  Story  59 

which  I  had  once  worked.  Strip- 
ping off  my  coat,  I  soon  cleared  it 
of  impedimenta.  In  a  moment 
more  I  was  seated,  with  my  foot  on 
the  vice-lever,  shaving  staves. 

It  was  an  hour  later  when  the 
master  workman  entered  the  room, 
and  he  paused  in  surprise  at  sight 
of  me;  already  there  was  a  goodly 
pile  of  neatly  shaven  staves  beside 
me,  for  in  those  days  I  was  an  ex- 
cellent workman;  there  was  none 
better,  but,  alas !  now,  age  hath  de- 
prived me  of  my  skill.  I  replied 
to  his  unasked  question  with  the 
brief  but  comprehensive  sentence: 
"I  have  returned  to  work,  sir."  He 
nodded  his  head  and  passed  on, 
viewing  the  work  of  other  men,  al- 
beit anon  he  glanced  askance  in  my 
direction. 

Here  endeth  the  sixth  and  last 
lesson  to  be  acquired,  although 
there  is  more  to  be  said,  since  from 
that  moment  I  was  a  successful 


"  /  was  a  successful  man,  and  ere  long 
another  shipyard." 


The  Magic  Story  61 

man,  and  ere  long  possessed  an- 
other shipyard,  and  had  acquired  a 
full  competence  of  worldly  goods. 

I  pray  you  who  read,  heed  well 
the  following  admonitions,  since 
upon  them  depend  the  word  "suc- 
cess" and  all  that  it  implies : 

Whatsoever  you  desire  of  good 
is  yours.  You  have  but  to  stretch 
forth  your  hand  and  take  it. 

Learn  that  the  consciousness  of 
dominant  power  within  you  is  the 
possession  of  all  things  attainable. 

Have  no  fear  of  any  sort  or 
shape,  for  fear  is  an  adjunct  of  the 
minus-entity. 

If  you  have  skill,  apply  it;  the 
world  must  profit  by  it,  and,  there- 
fore, you. 

Make  a  daily  and  nightly  com- 
panion of  your  plus-entity;  if  you 
heed  its  advice,  you  cannot  go 
wrong. 

Remember,  philosophy  is  an  ar- 
gument; the  world,  which  is  your 


6 2  The  Magic  Story 

property,  is  an  accumulation  of 
facts. 

Go,  therefore,  and  do  that  which 
is  within  you  to  do;  take  no  heed 
of  gestures  which  would  beckon 
you  aside;  ask  of  no  man  permis- 
sion to  perform. 

The  minus-entity  requests  fa- 
vors; the  plus-entity  grants  them. 
Fortune  waits  upon  every  footstep 
you  take;  seize  her,  bind  her,  hold 
her,  for  she  is  yours;  she  belongs 
to  you. 

Start  out  now,  with  these  ad- 
monitions in  your  mind.  Stretch 
out  your  hand,  and  grasp  the  plus, 
which,  maybe,  you  have  never 
made  use  of,  save  in  grave  emer- 
gencies. Life  is  an  emergency  most 
grave. 

Your  plus-entity  is  beside  you 
now;  cleanse  your  brain,  and 
strengthen  your  will.  It  will 
take  possession.  It  waits  upon 
you. 


The  Magic  Story  63 

Start  to-night;  start  now  upon 
this  new  journey. 

Be  always  on  your  guard.  Which- 
ever entity  controls  you,  the  other 
hovers  at  your  side;  beware  lest 
the  evil  enter,  even  for  a  moment. 

My  task  is  done.  I  have  writ- 
ten the  recipe  for  "success."  If 
followed,  it  cannot  fail.  Wherein  I 
may  not  be  entirely  comprehended, 
the  plus-entity  of  whomsoever 
reads  will  supply  the  deficiency; 
and  upon  that  Better  Self  of  mine 
I  place  the  burden  of  imparting  to 
generations  that  are  to  come  the 
secret  of  this  all-pervading  good, — 
the  secret  of  being  what  you  have 
it  within  you  to  be. 


[THE  END] 


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LIBRARY,   UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,   DAVIS 

Book  SHp-55m-l 0/68 (J4048s8) 458 — A  3 1/5 


N9  639785 


Dey,  F.V.R. 

The  magic  story. 


PS3507 
E9 
M3 
1914 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


(m  B^osN 

IBS  KJ-.L. 


